He Never Gives Me Flowers
by Over8000
Summary: Once again, Valentine's Day rolls around. Once again, Vegeta is without a clue. Can the gentle guidance of his family inspire the grumpy Saiyan to go outside his comfort zone? One shot story.


A bright ray of early spring sunlight cut through the clouds like a knife, forced its way through the curtains of the master bedroom on the second level of the Capsule Corp Headquarters and inconsiderately shone upon the face of the sleeping Prince of Saiyans, awaking the warrior from a deep sleep. Grumbling in irritation, he turned his back towards the offending window and tried to return to sleep but it was too late. He was awake now.

_Tch_. The one day he had wanted to sleep in and nature itself had conspired against him. Out of spite, he lay in bed for a few more minutes before he relented and sat upright. Vegeta dug his long toes into the thick carpeting and yawned, then scratched at his scalp and looked around the master bedroom for his wife. Bulma was gone, and it was quiet except for the chirping of birds outside and the occasional sound of a vehicle in the distance.

_Must be later than I thought,_ Vegeta reflected, and glanced at his phone: eight in the morning. Three hours later than Vegeta usually was up and about. So, that meant that Bulma was working, the kids were in classes, and the Elder Briefs was off tinkering in his lab. Even Panchy had not barged in with breakfast or inane chatter. Good. He had requested to be left alone, for once, and it was a minor miracle that everyone had complied.

He stood, stretched, then did his usual wake up routine of squats and pushups to get his blood moving. Next Vegeta sauntered out of his and Bulma's suite and into the wonderfully deserted hallway. He made his way into the family dining nook where Panchy had left out a spread of morning foods for the Saiyan to pick from, along with a pitcher of cold ice water, another of orange juice, and of course a hot carafe of dark Columbian brew.

Vegeta filled several plates to overflowing with a variety of brunch foods, poured himself a giant mug of steaming coffee that he laced with enough sugar and cream to effectively bury the bitter bite, then wandered to the connected balcony and settled down into his favorite chair. He kicked back, put his feet up and began to eat. He consumed the first round of his meal in peace and quiet.

Many people would have turned on the TV to drown out the quiet, but Vegeta valued silence more than most. Usually the rooms of Capsule Corp rang with nonstop clatter and chatter: music, TV, conversations, the bustle of everyday life in a busy household. With Bulma on her phone, Trunks in his last year of high school, and Bra just into primary school it was difficult for the Saiyan to find a peaceful moment. It did not help that everyone insisted on chattering at him. It was mentally exhausting and he had never fully adjusted to it, even after all these years on Earth.

It was always busy at CC, people always demanded something from Vegeta whether he wished to engage with them or not. Bulma worked nonstop on projects or else attended stuffy business meetings. Dr. Briefs had plans to retire as President of Capsule Corp in a few years, so Bulma was learning the ropes to stand in as CEO until Trunks came of age and took over. The children had plays, sports events, contests, and busy social lives. All these things demanded attention and Vegeta could not opt out of them.

So to have the place to himself was a luxury. The enclosed balcony just off the cozy dining nook, was his favorite place in the CC Headquarters, outside of the Gravity Room, to relax and reconnect with his own thoughts. Sometimes the grumpy Saiyan opened the sliding glass doors to let in some sun and fresh air, a simple experience for most but priceless to the former soldier who had spent so much time confined to the sterile domes of the PTO barracks packed in with other beings.

After his leisurely breakfast Vegeta dropped off his dishes, changed into his exercise clothes and headed off to the Gravity Room to train. Alone. Sure, Kakarot would have loved to work out with him, but in spite of their 'friendship', Vegeta still liked his own company better. That, and sometimes Kakarot said the most idiotic things. Besides, the Sons were busy with planting season and Chichi would throw a fit if he were to leave. There was only so much of that harpy's screeching that Vegeta could tolerate.

Hours passed. No one bothered him. It was pure bliss and Vegeta lost himself in the timeless rhythm of his workout. Then a claxon sounded, he nearly jumped out of his skin. The videocomm Bulma had installed lit up the room with its harsh fluorescent glow. Bulma's face came on the screen, and a prerecorded message began. It was the same message every day: "Vegeta, it's almost three. Bra is going to be home soon. Please get a snack ready for her. I'll see you later." With an electronic wink and a smile, the message ended and the screen turned off.

The Saiyan Prince grumbled, irritated that he had been interrupted and that he had not realized so much time had passed. This was why Bulma had made that recording. She had grown tired of having to remind him, every day, that the kids were due home: first Trunks and then Bra. Part of his agreement with the blue-haired heiress was that he would be available for their youngest during the afternoons and evenings. In exchange, he was given most of his day to himself, to pursue his solitary goals of greatness and finally surpass Kakarot.

Everyone thought -he was a cold and isolated man, but in truth Vegeta was fiercely loyal to his family, a left over perhaps from his early years, before Frieza had beaten anything positive out of him. Besides, Bra was his Princess; the birth of that little girl had touched something in him that no one else had been able to

He washed up, returned to the family kitchen and retrieved the snacks out of the fridge that Panchy had also prepared in advance. The Briefs had an in-house chef, but still the older female insisted on making most of their food by hand. The woman had to be ancient, by human standards, yet her smooth face and blond locks gave her a youthful appearance that belied her years. Vast amounts of money could buy just about anything, Vegeta supposed. Panchy had annoyed him at first, but she had plied him with endless amounts of cheer, kindness, lack of judgement, and of course mountains of homemade food. Vegeta had lost his mother at a young age, so it took him a while to adjust to Panchy's unbiased acceptance. Although he had lived among them for over a decade, human kindness and unselfishness still managed to bewilder him. But now, secretly, he kind of enjoyed the pampering.

At 3PM sharp, the front door chime went off and the door to their living quarters opened. Vegeta could hear Bra coming down the hallway long before he saw her blue pigtails bobbing. As always, she came racing in full tilt with a big grin on her face. The little girl rushed in, screeched to a halt, then tackled him with a big hug.

"Hi, Papa!" Bra cried, excitable as always. "How was your day? Did you fight any bad guys? Oh, guess what? We had a party in our classroom today, and we had cookies and soda and tons of snacks! And we made cards for all of our classmates for the party tomorrow. We had to, even for that jerk Scribner." Her brow furrowed, but she did not stop her monologue. "We made heart cookies, and I asked the teacher if I could bring some home, and she said yes! Then we ate a bunch of candy hearts and played games and watched a movie. She made us popcorn. I loooove popcorn, don't you? It was sooo much fun!"

"Nice to see you too, Princess," Vegeta said in a sardonic voice when Bra stopped to take a breath. The girl was just like her mother in that Vegeta could never get in a word edgewise.

"Oh, and look, I made this for Mom! As a gift. Do you think she'll like it?" Bra held out a large piece of paper covered with red cardboard hearts, sparkles, and oversized pink and red taffeta flowers for Vegeta to admire. "Did you make Mama a gift, too?"

"What are you talking about girl," Vegeta asked, caught off guard. He got a sinking feeling that he had missed something important, again. He never paid attention to dates, and as a result tended to be clueless about Brief family events. He rarely remembered birthdays, much like other random human holidays. Hell, he did not even know his _own_ birthday. Bulma had insisted on picking an arbitrary date for him even though he said he did not care. She had insisted throwing him lavish parties that he did not want and on spending exorbitant amounts of zeni on things he did not need for years, until she finally got the message that such things were wasted on the taciturn Saiyan.

Bra continued to look up at Vegeta, her gap-toothed smile wide as she waited for him to respond. She had lost a front tooth just the other day, something she was quite proud of. "Aren't you going to look at it, Papa?"

_Oh. Right_. Maybe then Vegeta could figure out just what he'd forgotten this time.

The card read, in a childish scrawl: 'Happy Valentine's Day to the best Mom in the entire world! Love, your favorite daughter, Bra!' The thing shed glitter all over Vegeta's hands and his clothes. He wiped his palms off on his sweats, but to no avail. Gods, how he hated glitter.

Oh shit. Not _this_ again. Once again, another holiday had snuck up on him and he was unprepared.

"Papa … " she giggled. "Don't be silly! It's for Valentine's Day! You know, it's when you give flowers and chocolate to your favorite people to show them how much you love them. I made one for you too, but you don't get to see that until tomorrow! It's a surprise."

_Hn, she really is just like her mother._ "I don't need to give a bunch of useless things to show how I feel. She should already knows that." The words were out of his mouth before he realized it, and he immediately wanted to kick himself.

Bra's lower lip began to quiver and her sapphire eyes grew wide with potential tears. His remark had been sharper than he meant.

"I'm sure she'll love it, Princess." Vegeta said before Bra could blow into a tantrum, then mussed her hair up to distract her.

"Daaaaaddy! You're gonna mess up my haaaaair!" Bra complained, then smoothed down her blue locks with both hands. Immediately, little wisps escaped from the pigtails and stood straight up.

"Go and eat your snack, Bra. Before I eat it all." Vegeta gave his daughter a wolfish grin, complete with canines, and started towards the dining nook.

"Nooooo," she squealed and dashed out in front of Vegeta, almost knocking him over in her enthusiasm to beat him to the table. Bra was very much like him in that way, competitive.

_The mission was a success: distraction complete._Vegeta allowed a tiny smile to curl the edges of his mouth as he followed after his offspring.

Vegeta promptly forgot about the upcoming holiday that night. One might say he did it on purpose… just like he did with anything that made him uncomfortable. Instead of addressing the issue head on, the Saiyan Prince decided he would worry about the dreadful 'Valentines Day' issue the next day. Another part of him hoped that Bulma too would forget about it too.

His hopes that Bulma might, for once, let it go as well were dashed the next day. Upon awakening, he found Bulma gone. After a moment, Vegeta vaguely remembered she had woken him earlier when he was half asleep to talk with him, but he could not remember what the had discussed. What the HFIL had she wanted, again? It was probably something important.

_Hn. Well, she'll tell me, I'm sure. That woman has no problem with speaking up._

When he entered the dining nook where the family had most of their meals, Vegeta remembered: February 14th. Valentine's Day. A day filled with over-the-top gestures of 'love'. Feh, as if any other day just wasn't good enough. Bulma put out a plate of tiramisu cakes, one of Vegeta's favorites, for him. A bright red envelope with his name written in her elegant script leaned up against a crystal vase with one perfect red rose.

Vegeta stuffed several pastries in his mouth as he opened the card - already cringing internally against the upcoming overflow of emotion. The card itself was equally elaborate, but the prose within was not sugary sweet as he had expected. Instead it too was written in Bulma's hand, a simple confession of how much she loved him and to be sure to free up his schedule for a romantic dinner. No elaborate gifts, she knew him well enough by now.

A picture fell out; It showed Bulma in nothing but her own skin, her hands strategically placed, and a wide smile on her face. That woman!

He felt his cheeks redden, and he was grateful that no one else was around to witness it. Bulma no longer bothered him about such things, nor harassed him to return the gestures. No, she understood him; that was one of many things he was quietly thankful for, as he was just no good at it. Yet, that sad look she always got in her eye when he forgot something, or was gone for months to train, still managed to get to him and gnaw away at his inner core.

Vegeta did not understand the human need to celebrate absolutely everything, or the relentless focus on giving physical objects to commemorate said holiday. It just did not make _sense_ and honestly seemed a bit wasteful However Bulma loved holidays. She also loved celebrating, and Valentine's Day was one of her favorites: a sappy celebration of "romance," yet another human concept that still eluded the practical Saiyan warrior.

During the early years of their relationship, Bulma had showered him with gifts and grew annoyed when he did not reciprocate. So one year, Vegeta thought he would be clever and gave her an actual heart instead of a paper replica. Instead of being appreciative, Bulma had freaked out. Vegeta had not understood her reaction. He had thought it was an appropriate show of affection. After that, he did not bother with gifts and Bulma stopped insisting.

But now … he just felt bad. _Ah, I've gone soft, I think. The woman is getting to me. And now… if I get some gift, I'd just be placating her. Damn it!_

The proud Saiyan Prince never liked to ask for or take advice from anyone else except for his wife. He did not know how to, either, because of his damned pride. And he clearly could not ask Bulma what he should get. She would simply say, 'don't worry about it' and then get that hangdog look.

What a mess! Who could he ask without losing face? Vegeta grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. He stared at the card and the picture while he munched thoughtfully at the pastries and pondered this dilemma. He considered asking Kakarot for about half a second, then dismissed that concept outright. Kakarot was even more clueless about such matters than Vegeta. The Saiyan Prince was not sure how the other Saiyan had managed to get a wife at all, much less children, considering how backwards he seemed. Over the years, Kakarot's obvious neglect of his family had started to bother Vegeta more and more, like when he had not understood why Vegeta passed up a place in the Zen-oh Exhibition Match to be present for the birth of his child. No, he'd be better off asking the Son's radish patch for an opinion.

Then there was Krillin, but the thought of lowering himself to ask the little man was too much to bear. He'd never hear the end of it, and Android 18 would hear all about it as well, along with the rest of the Z-fighters. And Son Gohan.. Well, the boy still held a grudge even though he said he didn't. So, who did that leave?

"Oh! Good morning, Vegeta. How are you today?"

Mr. Brief's voice startled Vegeta out of his thoughts and made him jump. The Prince automatically caught himself, and tried to plaster his usual annoyed expression on his face. It did not work. The old man was usually oblivious to what was going on around him, but he could be keenly observant when he wished.

"Are you alright, my boy?" The ubiquitous half-burnt cigarette dangled from his lips and ashes fell to the floor. His pet cat, Scratch, clung to one shoulder and batted at the ashes as they fell.

"Mn." Vegeta grunted his response, and refused to make eye contact. He focused his gaze on the cup of coffee and shoved a few pastries in his mouth to avoid needing to answer.

Dr. Briefs chuckled in a knowing manner as he poured himself a mug of cooled coffee. Unlike Vegeta, he left it black. "Ah, I see...not enough caffeine yet, right?"

Vegeta, always a poor conversationalist at the best of times, shrugged.

"Right." The purple-haired human looked down at the open card, and broke into a toothy smile. "Oh yes, a Happy Valentine's day to you, Vegeta."

Great. Now the old man was in on it too.

"Ahem. Did you pick something up for Bulma?" Dr. Briefs downed the contents of his cup in one gulp and then refilled it to the brim, one eyebrow raised as he waited for a response.

"Why?" Vegeta levelled a suspicious glare, tinged with guilt, at the older man. "DId she say something?"

"Er… no. I've just noticed over the years that you … tend to forget." Dr. Briefs flicked the ash off his cigarette.

"Tch!" Vegeta crossed his arms and glowered, fangs bared in displeasure. In the past, people would have cowered in fear from such a look. "Why should I give her a bunch of useless things? She has everything she could ever want!"

Dr. Brief pulled out a chair and boldly sat across from Vegeta. He took a long swig of the lukewarm liquid, the cigarette still dangled from the corner of his mouth, then smacked his lips. "Well, my boy, that's not the point. It's not about how much something costs, or how many things you buy."

"What _should _I give her then," Vegeta snapped. He could feel himself becoming more irate. "She hated the last Valentine's Day gift I gave her!"

"Vegeta, you don't have to spend a fortune. It's not a competition or a challenge. Give her something meaningful, something to show her just how much she means to you - how much you love her. And I know you do, in spite of that gruff face you show the world." Te older man winked, a gesture that Bulma had acquired. He stood up, poured a fourth cup of joe, and grabbed one of the remaining croissants left by Panchy. "Just... put a little thought into it. I'm sure you'll come up with something. Ahem. Well, hope that helps."

To his horror, Vegeta felt that tinge of red color his cheeks again."You'd _better _not tell her that we talked about this, old man."

"Don't worry, Vegeta. Your secret is safe with me. I'll be in the lab all day if you need to ask any more questions. Ta! " With a wave, Dr. Brief exited the room, his white lab coat fluttering behind like a cape.

Vegeta watched him leave, then placed his head in his hands, beyond frustrated. Great. He had so hoped the old man would give some … practical … ideas. After all, he was a scientist. Weren't they supposed to be about concrete solutions?

Okay...now what? What had he always seen those saps doing in those horrid romance movies Bulma watched in secret?

A box of chocolates seemed popular. But no, they would 'ruin her figure'. Flowers? Definitely not. How did giving a bunch of dying foliage show affection? Here, have these dead things because I thought of you. Tch. Jewelry? Bulma had enough pieces to run her own store, and most of the pieces she owned she did not wear. A card? How mundane, and it would probably be tossed in the trash after a few days. And besides, anyone could go to a store and purchase _things_.

_No,_ Vegeta decided, _the old man is right. That wouldn't mean a damn thing. I've got to find something unique. Something she wouldn't exprect._

But what did you get for the woman who had everything?

Bulma Briefs, the most powerful woman in the world, stepped outside of Capsule Corp headquarters after the last meeting of the day. She lit up the cigarette she had bummed off her father, lit it, and drew the smoke into her lungs. The menthol flavoring cooled her throat and burned her lungs but helped to bring her back into focus. Smoking was one of the many bad habits she had picked up from Dr. Briefs over the years and one she could not seem to shake.

Speaking of the old man, now that he was getting ready to retire as CEO, Bulma's workload outside of the labs had increased exponentially. Not only did she have her personal projects to run, but she also had to act as Head of Sciences, and attend the Board meetings with her father so that she could learn the ropes, be prepared. It made for long and frustrating days, and she wanted nothing more than to go back into the sanctuary of her living quarters and relax.

Bulma checked her smartphoneto make sure the reservations she had made were still in place. Although, restaurants rarely ever bumped the Briefs out of line. Next, she sent a text to Vegeta in case he had wandered off or gotten lost in the Gravity Room. Both were distinct possibilities, considering how he felt about human holidays. She could tell when he read the message, but he did not reply. She hoped that meant he was in the shower, or with Bra, and not ignoring her.

When she entered the dining nook, Vegeta wasn't there. The pastries she had left were long gone, and the card opened instead of being tossed away untouched. Clearly, he had gotten the message, knew that today was special, could not claim that he had forgotten and did not have time to reciprocate A small glimmer of hope fluttered in her chest and caused her to check and see if he had left her something in return.

No card, no gift, no flowers. Nothing. What had she expected, really? The heiress sighed, and her shoulders slumped. She removed her blazer, tossed it over the back of a chair and kicked off her heels. Her lips twisted up, and she swallowed the lump of disappointment that rose up, a bltter pill.

_Really, Vegeta?_ _How difficult would it have been for you to take a run to a store and buy a card… something, anything?_ But then,she knew better. Outward gestures like that were not who Vegeta was, never had been, and she had accepted that years ago. She knew that the Saiyan loved her in his own gruff way and that he did not believe in what he called 'meaningless gestures'. Actions spoke louder than words Vegeta.

Still, a card would have been nice. Bulma sighed in resignation and ran her fingers through her hair. It had gotten shaggier than she would have liked, and it needed a good trim.

The lights in the bedroom were on when Bulma entered their suite. His jacket lay on the unmade bed along with his expensive shoes she had bought him for Christmas, still in their box. She detected a hint of his cologne and heard the water in the bathroom. She stuck her head in and found him shaving. Once he had started to grow facial hair, Bulma had needed to invent a blade strong enough to cut through his wiry Saiyan beard. He had destroyed an entire pack beforehand. Bulma had found it amusing, Vegeta less so.

Vegeta had his suit on, the vest still unbuttoned. His hair was groomed instead of being a wild animal, which was a big deal for the warrior. Bulma noticed that his blue pinstripe tie was done up wrong as usual. Her husband, the Prince of All Saiyans, could never seem to get the knot right. Bulma covered her smile with one hand; it was one of the many endearing things about Vegeta.

Even though he pretended otherwise, Vegeta was rather sensitive to others' words and criticisms. So Bulma did not point out his error; she just walked in, placed a hand on his arm in a silent greeting and then reached out to fix his tie.

"You look handsome, Vegeta." she assured, then reached out to smooth down the lapel of his shirt. Deep inside, she knew the Saiyan still had a buttload of insecurities he'd never addressed. "I've already asked Dad to watch the kids while we go out for the night. Everything is all set up."

Vegeta nodded, a brief economical motion, but did not respond verbally. If he could get away without talking all day, he would. But that was also part of his charm. Bulma had known early on that he was not one for idle chatter. If he spoke, it was important to him.

She glanced at her watch; time to get ready if they wished to make their reservation in time. Bulma sorted through her closet and selected an elegant black dress for the evening: a sleeveless floor length piece with a plunging scoop neckline and set in waist which enhanced her curves. She paired it with a simple pearl necklace and earrings and matching heels. Simple, understated, elegant. Perfect. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, pursed her lips coyly, then winked.

Next, Bulma sat at her vanity to do her makeup and her hair, humming to herself. She felt a little better now that Vegeta was here, dressed, and had not once griped. Yet. She reached out for her makeup kit, and then she saw it next to her perfume bottles - a box,. Bulma paused, caught off guard, then blinked to make sure she was not seeing things.

Wait. Was this a _gift_? Had Vegeta actually bought her something? She picked it up and examined it for clues. It was too large to hold jewelry, perhaps the size of a shoe box, and had been expertly wrapped. Did he get someone to help? It did not look like it came from any store.

"Vegeta, what is this?" Bulma called out. The sound of the razor stopped and he stuck his flame shaped head out of the door, dark eyes unreadable.

"A box." A typical answer from the Saiyan Prince. He folded his arms across his chest and the left side of his mouth twisted slightly upward.

"I know that," she said.

"Open it," he ordered. "That's what you do with a gift, right?" Vegeta did not retreat back into the bathroom, but waited and watched with a neutral expression on his half-shaved face.

With great anticipation, she began to peel away the outer layer of wrapping paper._Oh Kami, please don't let it be a body part this time…_

Her excitement grew as she removed the lid and peeled away the layers of crepe paper to find an integral piece of an Ion drive engine from one of the original Capsule Corp Spaceships. Perhaps the original one.

"What is this?" At first Bulma felt confused. Then she felt a little angry. "The hell, Vegeta? Why did you trash the ship? What about flowers, or candy?

Vegeta looked cross and then hurt for a second, then the emotion was gone, subsumed. One who did not know him well would not have seen it at all. Her words had … bothered him. "Woman, don't you know what that is?

"Yes, a piece of _my_ ship." Bulma still felt irate, but tried to calm herself. There had to be a reason for all of this, beyond just breaking things. Didn't there?

Vegeta sighed, exasperated. "It's a piece of the engine from the ship that I stole. Twice. Without it, the ship can't run. Without it, I can't leave Earth. Ever again. Get it now?" His tone was gruff, and his words clipped. He crossed his arms, huffed, and then turned his back towards his wife. "Forget it. It was a stupid idea."

Bulma could tell he was upset. The bluenette stared down at the mangled engine part, then raised her eyes back up towards her husband as his words finally sunk in: _I can't leave_. Technically, that wasn't true. There were other spaceships now, but that was not the point at all. This gift was a symbolic gesture, one that addressed an old wound and worry the two had never spoken about. It was something that had always remained in the back of her mind and had haunted her for years, the fact that he had ran and left his family behind. Now, he was trying to say the one thing Bulma had longed to hear: that even though he _could_, Vegeta would never leave her again. He was here, to stay.

Happy tears begin to well in the corners of her eyes, and a smile came to her face. Bulma dabbed at her eyes, then stood up, sniffling a bit. "Oh Vegeta … this is better than flowers. This is … the most romantic thing that you've ever done! Thank you!" She flung her arms around his muscular neck and placed several kisses on his clean shaven cheek, leaving several perfect lip prints. Through her tears, she laughed and wiped the lipstick away.

A tiny smile flitted across his lips, then disappeared. But his ebony eyes sparkled. "Happy Valentine's Day, Bulma."


End file.
